Two Brothers
by BlueSea14
Summary: An improbable encounter between Sirius and Regulus Black. Told from Regulus' POV. 'You know as well as I do that Mother already sent an acceptance letter...I don't have a choice, Sirius.' OneShot


**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not J K Rowling. I also am not the Disney Company and so I don't own the lines of a song that came from "American Adventure" from EPCOT in Disneyworld. (See bottom A/N)._**

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**Two Brothers**

_"Two brothers on their way...two brothers on their way...two brothers on their way...one wore blue and one wore gray..._

_One wore blue and one wore gray...as they marched along the way...the fife and drum began to play...all on a beautiful morning..." - Irving Gordon_

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The moon was so bright – a perfect half-sphere, nestled between stars in the sky. No clouds blocked light from reaching the grounds of Hogwarts; the stones that made up walkways inside the castle were cast into silvery light from the windows.

I stared out of the window from one such corridor, deserted at the dead of night. I had no idea how long I had been sitting there, staring blackly at my arm – stretched out before me, sleeve drawn back to expose the skin of my left forearm.

At my side in my dangling hand, a letter lay still in the darkness. The words written on it were a plea, a bargain to me from that woman I called 'Mother dearest'. A gamble with the Devil – with the Dark Lord. I received it days ago, with no time limit for my reply. A reply I had to formulate for almost a week: one that I had to strategize before realizing there was no hope.

What was I supposed to do? All my life I had followed the rules despite any temptation. When my brother was causing trouble, I was a good little boy – and if I was with him, he always made sure he could get me out of it. He always looked after me.

Not anymore, of course. This summer he ran away from home – to a blood traitor's house, to Potter's. He left me alone with Mother, and even though a part of me was so sad he was gone, the other was painfully, treacherously happy.

He had made me the good son in Mother's eyes, the obedient one. He had made my life miserable since he was sorted into Gryffindor. He stood for everything good and light in the world compared to me, and as much as I wanted to follow him there – I was too weak. I couldn't do it.

What was I supposed to say? I had no idea where my life was going. I was by no means the best in my class, but I was smart enough to use logic – that had helped me more than once. It was logical not to follow Sirius on his many escapades, but all right to do so a few times to satisfy my brother.

That was how I kept our connection. Even at my young age, I looked at the chessboard and made the moves that made me good in Mother's eyes but a brother in Sirius'. But since Hogwarts…he no longer considered me his brother.

That was what James Potter was. That was Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. And now, by winter holiday, he had a sister – Lily Evans – because his brother James was at long last dating the witch of his dreams.

She was a Mudblood. My brother chose Mudbloods and blood traitors over me, his own blood. I couldn't fix it between us if I tried – I was a Slytherin, and Sirius would never see me as anything other than that. It defined me now, and he went by that definition.

What was I supposed to have done? I was sorted into the house of Slytherin because I had cunning and ambition. I wanted so much to be accepted by Sirius and my family that the Sorting Hat gave me no other choices. I was in Slytherin, not Gryffindor, and when I looked toward my brother that day…

It was the day he stopped thinking of me as his brother. Summer that year had been tense, but I had never dreamed that the tension between him and Mother would have targeted me so badly. I played my cards the same way as ever, but came up empty-handed in the end.

During that Sorting, he gave me one last look before turning to his friends. And he never looked my way again – never looked upon me as his brother after that day. I was lost into the sea of Slytherin, and when the only person who would talk to me was Severus Snape my brother started to hate me.

I couldn't have known about their animosity in the least, but he expected me to know of the hatred between them. I only knew that I had last seen Severus at a party with Mother, when Sirius and I were younger. I hadn't hung around them, but went off to Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromeda to talk with my cousins.

I wondered if there had been a confrontation between them there. It was before the Dark Lord showed up, so the pureblood families had been together at the Ministry party. I remember the incident between Severus and James while Sirius was by Mother's side, early in the evening; the Potters had left after that, only there for a short half-hour.

I never knew what happened between them, and I guessed that I never would. Sirius hated me from the moment I spoke to Severus at the Sorting Feast, however, and from then on my brother and his cronies ignored me in the halls of Hogwarts.

So what was I doing now, here on the floor everyone knew that the Gryffindor tower was on? I was hiding in a corridor in the middle of the night, not caring who stumbled across me, all because of the letter Mother sent to me.

_"…Regulus. Becoming a Death Eater is the highest honor you could give me, son…. If you consider this choice as high an honor as I, speak with Bellatrix by owl and she can help you find the path…"_

I wanted to obey Mother's wishes. I wanted to do what she asked of me, but to go along with this path…it would destroy my life. I knew better than anyone; I knew which cards to deal and which to keep.

If I did this for Mother, I would sign over my life to a Dark Lord who had no humanity. I couldn't imagine what type of person could stand to do such things to others as were described in the Daily Prophet as of late. This is what my family supported?

Growing up with the beliefs, I knew that Mudbloods and Muggles were on the list to be exterminated. On any other occasion, I would have supported that. But right now I simply couldn't.

Despite what Sirius thought of me, I could not condone such methods. The murders were bloody and the casualties many – this was a war, and the Dark Lord's side was doing terrible things. As much as I wanted to do what Mother wanted, this would destroy my soul and I knew it.

But I had no choice – Mother had probably already sent in my acceptance letter to Bellatrix, who in turn would hand it over to the Dark Lord. I wouldn't even have to send a reply letter – even though I already had. With the expected answer written in a shaking hand.

_"…It would be a great honor, Mother…. Send my acceptance to Bellatrix, please; I don't think it is wise for me to do so from right under Headmaster Dumbledore's nose…"_

I can feel tears trickling down my cheeks, warm and salty across my face. It's the Black family face, of course – regal and elegant from years of inbreeding, centuries of cousins marrying cousins.

As Sirius so rightly has said, the gene mixing between our families had resulted in sanity being all over the map in any one member of the Blacks.

I'm considered just as handsome as Sirius, in a way, but less. I'm always just a little bit less than he is; I'm not as good at school, I'm not as popular even though I am still high in the Slytherin house, and I'm certainly not as good. I try, but I'm not.

I could have sworn that it was a good thing to obey one's parents. But isn't that what got us all into this whole mess? Children obeying parents and the parents being wrong themselves – it made the children wrong. It made us grow up to be evil in the eyes of others.

The moonlit night is so vibrant and calming that I find it hard to sleep in the dungeons of Slytherin. This – _this_ – is peace, right here. By being so close to Gryffindor tower, I feel just a little bit closer to my brother. Just a little.

I know that their dormitory is right around the corner from where I sit smack in the middle of the hallway. I came here straight from the Astronomy tower, seeking the comfort that I sometimes posses by being here in the night.

Headmaster Dumbledore found me here once, back in my Second Year. The 'Muggle-loving fool' – Mother's words – and I sat here talking for a long time. It made me feel so special to know that at least someone would listen to my tale of how Sirius and I were no longer brothers.

I told him everything: he told me to be strong, to listen to my heart. I wasn't certain what he meant then, but I think now I understand. My heart, my innermost self that still has a conscience, tells me that the Dark Lord will destroy what little good there is in me.

Dumbledore really knows things sometimes, in such a way that it's nearly terrifying. He knew back then that I would understand someday what he meant – and here I am, understanding too late to stop everything.

There's just something about the Headmaster that makes it easy to talk, even when part of me is fighting against it. That was the part that grew up believing what Mother taught me when I was younger, which is ingrained in my mind and is the Dark Lord's code.

But I can't deny it any longer now that I'm older – purebloods are not perfect. Not in anything. I'm proof of that, being pureblood and hardly perfect. That Lily Evans – no wonder my brother is so close to her, his 'sister' in everything but blood. She's brilliant and a Mudblood. But that doesn't change what I am going to be.

What am I supposed to do? In a short days' time, I'll never be able to wear short sleeves again. I'll never be able to sit out in the sun in a bathing suit or a tank top. I'll never be able to deny the darkness inside me that believes my Mother's teachings.

In a single day, I'll have a tattoo on my arm that defines me so completely that I will never escape my dark fate.

I know that the instant I accept that tattoo, my fate is sealed. The Dark Lord must be a Legilimens, for Bellatrix has hinted at it without knowing often enough whenever she talks – _praises_ – him. He'll find out one day that I do not support him, as he believes his followers should. I'll die for it.

Because of the Legilimency theory, I found a book of Occlumency to train myself. As I said, I'm not the brightest but I am a strategist. For months I've worked on it, trying to learn as much as I can. If I had the ability, I would ask Headmaster Dumbledore for more help.

But it just delays the inevitable. In the very end, I'll be dead at Voldemort's hand because of my disbelief in his teachings. Before that end comes, I have to find a way to relieve the darkness from my soul; the dark interior that I know is closing in on me.

How else will I be able to feel a strange rush, a thrill, at the thought of donning that mask and those robes? How else can I explain the part of me, Mother's teachings, which tell me I should be honored to have that tattoo on my arm? There is no explanation. It is simply fact. I am dark inside.

I've been sitting here since an hour after dinner, and no one has come by. Everyone goes to their common rooms quickly these days – for the warmth of a fire in winter, for conversations with friends whom they know are still alive, and just to be in the center hub of company.

The Slytherin common room is not like the others. Everyone goes their own ways; everyone does their own things. No one sits in front of the fire with his or her friends and just talks without purpose. All Slytherins record conversations in memory; there is a purpose to every small chat.

We are all trained to do it by the higher generations of Slytherins, the Seventh Years. The cycle ruins the house itself, and there is nothing that can be done to stop it. It is just the way of the Slytherin house.

I don't like it at all. Sometimes, when I get closer to the Gryffindor Common Room – at great risk to myself – I hear laughter. Real laughter, coming from inside the Gryffindor tower – the whole house gets together to celebrate. It sounds like a free-for-all – a glorious, wonderful chaotic mess.

Just because I'm in Slytherin, that doesn't mean I don't want the simplicity and happiness of the Gryffindor life. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would be all right with me. After all, Sirius isn't the only one with a fun-loving spirit.

But I get no chance to show it. I can't show it – I couldn't before when I had to play my cards right around Sirius and Mother, and I can't now because Slytherins don't do things like that. It means that I can't mess around and laugh and have actual, real fun.

_Well, this is just a barrel of laughs._ My eyes drift to the letter from my arm and I see the marks again, the heavy penmanship of Mother – it was written in a hurry, the splotches and marks of ink on the paper saying clearly to me 'Hurry up and reply, Regulus, I need you to give me your false answer'.

That's all she has ever wanted from me. I turn my eyes back to my arm. The muscles are stiff from holding still for so long, and there are still tears streaking down my cheeks. My arm looks so solid and whole right now. What will it look like with a great ugly tattoo burned straight to my blood vessels?

I looked for information on the spell for the tattoo that the Dark Lord will use on me in a week; I saw it on Bellatrix already and did my research. When he charms it to my skin, it will hook on with the ink and go through my blood to my heart; it will pull me into pain when he wishes and summon me wherever I am.

I'll never be able to run from him. I will never be my own person again. I will simply be another Death Eater, another monster wearing a black robe and a white mask, with a part of my heart dying every time I obey his commands. And the darkest part of my mind is awakened and wants to do these twisted things.

Footsteps sound along the stones a corridor away before I see anyone come into view. Yet I do not move – what's the point? A detention means nothing in light of this revelation to myself. Soul-searching shouldn't happen all in an hour after dinner and continue on to midnight, but for me it managed to.

I wonder who it will be. A teacher who will take points away, then confiscate the letter, read it, take me to Dumbledore…that lovely train of thought pulls away from the station. It's a lovely dream – I anticipate it happening, wondering if it could. Maybe he would be able to help…

But he wouldn't. After all, I already gave Mother my reply, and there is no 'let me rethink it' to the Dark Lord. If the person coming were Filch, he wouldn't care in the slightest and just send me to my dorm with a detention and loss of points.

Another student…it could be a Slytherin searching for me for their own personal gain, or it could be Gryffindors sneaking back to their common room. Either way, I would end up hexed by an angry student – the Slytherin would consider me weak for my tears, a Gryffindor would hex me 'just because'.

The footsteps come closer – and I find that I can't bring myself to care. I really, truly can't. Instead, my eyes stay locked on my bare – for now – forearm; my face is ducked down to keep my tears from shining in the moonlight. The letter is still loose in my fingers and I'm sitting in a patch of that light – very theatrical.

Sirius always did say I had a flair for the dramatic. Well, this is as dramatic a setup as any I could ever think up. I'm not sure why I don't move, even if I don't care. It would be better for me if I weren't found like this, especially being a Slytherin.

My thoughts are very random tonight – things are just leading from one to another without pause. I believe it's brought on by my exhaustion and the confusion about what to do that is making me feel weak and brainless. That's another one that Sirius always told me – at least, after we entered Hogwarts.

The footsteps have entered the corridor – and suddenly they're gone. I want to turn my head and look, but what can I do once I see whoever it is? Either way I'm going to be hexed – at least if I don't look, I won't have the memory in my mind for the Dark Lord to look at once I'm trapped in his ranks.

Knowing the things they all do, the Dark Lord would probably make me take revenge on whoever it was as some twisted initiation act. I'm not entirely certain what makes a person a target besides being a Mudblood or a blood traitor or even a Muggle, and I don't want to risk anything. Why did the footsteps grow so quiet, though? There are several separate feet coming my way softly.

A pair of shoes comes into my peripheral vision – they are black boots, worn at the toe and broken in comfortably from the look of the leather. A bit further back from that pair, I see about four more – one of which are definitely a delicate pair of female's boots.

Why are they not cursing me? I don't know any girls who wouldn't – because all the girls I know are Slytherins. Slytherins would curse me for being here, no matter which gender. Why not these people?

"Regulus."

Oh. That's why.

The sarcasm in his voice, the loathing so clearly displayed, the obvious contempt for my mere existence – brother dearest is standing before me. And I can't even work up the courage to look up at him, when he's speaking to me for the first time this year.

His toe nudges me in the side, but I can't tear my eyes away from the unmarred flesh of my forearm. "Imagining it with a tattoo, brother?" The way he says 'brother' tells me all too clearly that he no longer considers me family.

The girl's voice whispers quietly, "Sirius…" Pleading and uncertain – she doesn't want to be anywhere near a Slytherin. I find that I can understand her all too clearly. If I was in my brother's place, on his side of the lines, I wouldn't want to be near anyone like me either.

It's nearly true what they say about the Slytherin house – it's almost completely evil now. The Sorting Hat and Dumbledore can beg Hogwarts to join, but it cannot happen; the families are teaching their children the wrong lessons, and it spreads throughout the entire household. It won't change; it's stubborn.

I wonder if I pretend to be asleep or unconscious if I'll be able to stay alone, by myself. I tried back in the Astronomy Tower – but even owls can sense my evil self inside, or saw the message I was sending off somehow.

After I sent the letter, an owl collided with my face leaving a bruise on my cheek, talons raking the skin from jaw to throat before flying to the top of the tower, away from my reach. I wonder if the marks are still bleeding; I wonder if the owl was my brother's.

I hear Sirius' brother – the one he prefers over his real brother, over me – that Potter, shush the girl quietly. I suppose that's Lily – her voice sounds kind; she's always seemed so kind to others. That counts for a lot more than blood; I can see that now.

Something brushes my hair and I find a hand pressing against my forehead, pushing my head back with non-gentle force. My eyes fall closed so the moonlight doesn't shine directly into them…so I don't have to look at my brother. The tears still fall despite closed eyes.

There are a few gasps, but not a hint of noise from the person I call my brother. I'm well aware of how I look, with the bruises from the owls' wings and body, and the scars from the claws, and the dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep over the last few days that I've had that letter. Both eyes look practically bruised for the dark shadows under my eyes.

There's a thud beside me and I wince, preparing for a blow. Instead, someone's hand is on my face and I'm shocked to hear Sirius hissing, "Regulus?" Questioning me, no disdain evident, just sudden overwhelming concern.

It's overwhelming because he's never been concerned for me before. When we were little, I managed to take care of myself even though I needed his help every now and then. But this…this is different. I don't understand why he's so concerned.

My eyes crack open and I move my head down – exposing my throat so uncomfortably made me feel like a meal for a vampire. For the first time that year, I can look directly into my brother's eyes, and all I can think to say is, "Did you pay your owl to attack me, or was that a habit you taught it to learn, to attack visitors to the Astronomy Tower?"

My voice is hoarse and I feel like wincing at the pain of talking, but I can't stand to show weakness in front of him right now. The harsh gasp of my words showed clear enough weakness in me as it was.

Sirius actually looks worried for me, if there is a bit of underlying hostility. I can see his friends standing awkwardly behind him; over his shoulder, I can see the bare sliver of a silvery cloak dangling from behind Potter's back.

He's so used to being hostile that Sirius' tone is angry when he asks, "What the bloody hell are you doing here? You're nowhere near the dungeons – it's almost midnight!"

I can't help from giving him a sardonic smile. "Are you actually concerned about me, or are you just worried because I'm out late at night like you and you think I'm…what, going to rat you out? Be a sneaky, sly Slytherin and try to work this to my advantage?"

"What else would you be doing here?" he shoots back, frustrated. His fingers are working over the bruises, prodding gently to see how much damage there is – who knew an owl could hit so hard? "This is far too close to Gryffindor tower – why are you out tonight of all nights? Fancy a detour this one night?"

"What makes you think it's a one time thing?" I can't give away my real reasons for being here, but I can hint that I come a lot more than he thinks. "For your information I've been out many nights before – family tradition to be nocturnal, isn't it?"

He knows I'm referring to Mother's own nighttime wanderings around our house. His lips tighten and he growls, "No, actually it isn't. And why up here, so close to my common room and dorms?"

That's the answer I can't give. I turn my face away from him to gaze back up at the moon, half-full and growing smaller by the minute, heading towards a dark new moon. The tears prick at my eyes and I can't help but wonder if this is what I've been reduced to, to get attention from my own brother.

When he sighs heavily, it's almost a growl of frustration. I feel him wiping away the blood from my scratches with his sleeve, lifting his wand and muttering a few healing spells – I bat his wand away with my hand before he's done.

When I turn to glare at him, I can feel the built up anger in my eyes. "What makes you think I need your help now?" He's taken aback for a minute; I see his friends getting a bit closer, obviously knowing his hot temper. I wonder if they're concerned for me – or for the trouble he could get into, for him. That's more likely.

"I don't see anyone else helping you. And in case you haven't noticed, you aren't in the best shape. What do you want me to do, ignore you when you're hurt?" he snarls. The Evans girl places her hand lightly on his shoulder and he seems to calm a bit, knowing that his friends have his back.

Seeing what he has without me causes pain that he can't imagine; that's why I unwittingly let go of my hand for a brief moment, lay down a card it would have been wiser kept secret. "You don't seem to have a problem ignoring me any other time when I'm hurt. Why change that now?"

He blinks at me in surprise, confusion crossing his face. I snort, a sound full of contempt and pain. "Can't you even realize things that are right in front of your face? What did you think when I was sorted into Slytherin, Sirius – really, what did you think? I would be fine and dandy about losing the only brother I have?"

If he looked any more shocked, his jaw would have been touching the floor. I didn't mean to let out that much, but the floodgates are down. My cards are out of my grip, spinning across the table and going straight into his hand – presenting him with all the hands.

"You expected me to be instantly like you, or exactly like everyone else in the house I had no choice but to be sorted into. There was no in-between; there was no remembrance that I was me and not this Regulus that you made up in your mind. You did the same thing that everyone else is doing to me and I'm trapped inside it all – and you don't care how much you're hurting me, just like Mother. You're so much like her you can't even see it."

His nostrils flare – a warning sign. Lily Evans' hand is tight on his shoulder, holding him in his crouched position. "Don't ever say I'm like that woman!"

"What do you call this, Sirius?" I raise the hand with the letter in it. "What do you call assuming that I'm going to be what you think I should be because of where I am? Try and tell me that's not the same thing."

He snatches the letter away from me, reading over it quickly. Then he pauses and backtracks, nostrils flaring once more in anger. Practically hissing, he turns his angry eyes to me. "You were in the Astronomy Tower – did you agree to _this_ or tell her to fu –."

"Sirius," Lily snaps, sensing the curse coming out of his mouth – too late.

"–ck off?" When I simply stare at him, he lets out a frustrated growl and hisses, "Death Eaters, Regulus? You know what they're doing as well as I do, you know what they stand for and you –."

"I know," I interrupted, my voice staying a consistent whisper. We have to be quiet this late at night out in the halls. His friends winced at 'Death Eaters' and stared, but I can't be bothered; I knew that reaction would come from revealing it. "Do you think I don't know what it all means?"

"Then why did you say yes?" Sirius doesn't just look angry and disgusted with me – he looks like he's ready to hit something, and there's pain in his eyes. A pain that matches mine is burning inside him. "How could you say yes?"

"I didn't have a choice!" He starts to interrupt but I cut him off. "No, I didn't! You know as well as I do that Mother already sent an acceptance letter to Bellatrix a week ago – the day I got that letter. You know it just as well as I know it – Mother already told them I was joining up."

"You can't know that for sure," Lily says. They all stare at her like she's crazy, but she kneels down in front of me – and even though a part of me is disgusted about a Mudblood, the larger part of me doesn't so much as flinch when she tentatively touches my knee. "You couldn't have known for certain."

I stare at her hopelessly. "This is my mother. I know her well enough to know that she did already – I had no choice but to send my letter back to her agreeing with it." She flinches as I admit I responded in agreement with Mother.

"You could have told her no despite that," she urges me quietly. "You could refuse to go all the way." I know why she's doing this – she'll be a target once we're out there in the real world. It's all fun-and-games between Slytherin and Gryffindor now, but out there, I'm the Enemy. She wants to do what Dumbledore tries to.

I shake my head. "There is no backing out of the Dark Lord's ranks. The minute I received this," I shake the letter "she sent the reply off to Bellatrix – and if they hadn't heard from me by tomorrow, they would have told the Dark Lord I backed out. It's already happened with someone else."

"Who?" she asks. "How could you know that?" I'm dimly aware that eyes are staring at us, but I can't be bothered when someone is actually listening to me.

I give her a desperate ghost of a smile, the only thing I can conjure up at the mere thought. "The Slytherin house is almost completely embedded in His service – there's news from the families of servants every night. The one who backed out – that was the man hanged by his intestines."

She flinches away from me, eyes widening in horror. That murder in particular was horrible – his face and body were far beyond recognition. No one even knew who he was – except for the Death Eaters themselves. I add, "That's not what they'll do to me – it'll be worse, more public, and messier because I'm a Black."

"How does that make a difference?" Sirius snorts. But he's shaking, and sitting beside me now, leaning against the wall. Right next to me – and it feels so odd to be in a group of Gryffindors that aren't hexing me that I begin to feel twitchy.

"Easy. I'm pureblood; I'm supposed to be perfect, I'm supposed to fill in for not only me, but also your footsteps. The Death Eaters expected you to join – but now they're planning an even worse death for you because you betrayed your blood." It wasn't easy for me to get my hands on that information, but I managed.

He looks sickened when I look to my side. Learning that there's a price on your head will do that to you. Voice shaking, I tell him, "Not all of us are as strong as you, Sirius. I can't back out of this – and despite the soul-destroying that it'll cause me, there's still a part that wants to join."

He actually growls this time. "How can you want to do anything like that? You're my brother!"

I shake my head. "The part of me that wants to is the part that believes all Mother has taught us growing up – when you hear something from the moment of your birth, Sirius, you eventually start to believe it – even if it's not all of you." And I give him a last glance before staring back up at the moon. "And you haven't been my brother for a long time – you made certain of that yourself."

It's very quiet for a short time. Lily Evans stands up and goes back to Potter's side; they all move down the hall a ways, giving us a little privacy. I don't look away from the moon for the whole silent time.

Sirius quietly tells me, "You didn't try to be mine, either."

"You didn't give me a chance once I was in a different house – once I replied to the first person to talk to me." He knows I'm right about that, and it kills him inside just as it had me for the past who-knows-how long.

His eyes cloud in anger. "But you didn't fight for the right to be related to me; you didn't fight to make yourself my brother again." He stands up swiftly, angry; I know that he's already denying to himself that this conversation ever happened, that the encounter ever existed.

He joins up with his friends, who glance back – I see it out of the corner of my eye. He doesn't look back – but I call out, "Sirius?" very hesitantly.

To my relief, he stops walking – doesn't turn around, but doesn't walk on. His friends can see his face –I see uncertainty there on theirs, but I know I just need to tell my brother the last thing he'll probably ever hear from me – he's too stubborn to admit he was wrong.

"Being your brother…I shouldn't have to fight for it… I'm sorry I do. And I'm sorry that…I've lost."

Thinking it was the end of our conversation, I don't expect a reply, but I receive it. "You're on the other side now, Regulus."

I hear his voice choked up, and I know mine is going to be, too. "In a day, I'll have no choice."

He half-turns, glancing back over his shoulder. He hadn't meant to stop or look back, but he's so shocked by that tidbit he can't help it. "Only a day? You get no more time?" No more time to refuse an ugly thing they call the Dark Mark.

I nod once, my eyes staring back down at my arm. My smooth skin, soon to be destroyed by a tattoo that isn't my choice. I know he can see the tears sliding down my cheeks in the moonlight, glistening brightly, and I can't pretend that I want to keep up my guard.

There's a movement; he almost steps forward. But I know why he doesn't. I told him the truth – I have a darker self inside, one that I can't fight, and he's disgusted by it. He wants nothing to do with me because of it. Even though I'm his brother.

Something burns deep inside me, the feeling that this is the end. This is goodbye, forever. I push myself up shakily, letting my arm fall to my side. The letter in my hand I fold and keep in my hand, not wanting to store it away as if it were important.

There's stillness in the air and I feel trapped even though I'm already walking, past windows with moonlit glittering through glass – a beautiful scene, one that I see today as a still-redeemable boy but I'll see tomorrow as a –literally – marked man. One forced to grow ancient overnight.

Sirius' voice calls out, "Regulus?"

I pause and stay still for a moment. His voice is closer, and we both know that this is it. This is good-bye for both of us; tomorrow evening, we'll be on opposite sides of the war. I have to sneak off during the Hogsmeade trip and commit to something that will decimate my soul and spirit and I can't turn around.

I can't turn around because then I'll run to my big brother and throw my arms around him and break down, begging him to help me run away, hide from it all and never go away. I'll run to him and ask that he help me get to Dumbledore because I don't know where he is, and I'll be sobbing.

And I can't do that. It's a choice between everything I've grown up to know, everyone I've known since beginning school, the whole world I was sucked into because I couldn't find my way out of the maze that was constructed around me – and my brother.

So I stay completely still, turning my head to look out of the corner of my eye. Yes, he's closer, and facing me directly; arms dangling by his sides loosely, a veritable picture of defeat.

And I know that if I were to turn around and run to him right now, he'd throw his arms around me and hold on tight and promise that we'd figure something out, tell me I was his brother and he could help me and we'd find Dumbledore and I'd be safe. We'd be brothers again.

And I'm frozen, and barely manage to croak out, 'I know." Because I know what he wants to say, and I know the answer he desperately wants and the one I want to give so much – but we both know what I have to answer. There is no other choice.

Later on, he'll say I did have a choice when he rants in anger with his friends, covering up the hurt. He'll say that until he begins to believe it and pushes back everything to the corner of his mind, because the war will make him have to see in black and white when it comes to Death Eaters and taking them down.

He can't be wondering what their stories are. He can't ask himself if I'm the one behind that mask. He can't hesitate when he comes face to face with the Death Eaters – and I have no doubts that he will. He will run into battle head-on, intent on being good and helping defeat the dark.

That's why I continue, "You can't hesitate." It's advice and a warning – that's what he can't afford.

He replies, "I know." And he nods, and I nod back. He's in the moonlight now, while I'm in shadow – stuck between the light of two windows, and it reflects off me but I can't step into it yet. I have to stay here, for his sake so I can hold on to that hope that I can still turn around.

Sirius says, "You can't either." He knows it would cause my death.

That he considers I would be in battles is what I hadn't thought ahead to yet. I know that someday I'll be behind the mask he's fighting against and I will be completely hidden from him – it's so solid clear in my mind that I know it will happen. All I can reply is, "I know."

And then he almost breaks my resolve when he whispers, "You don't have to do this." It's as close to goodbye, as he'll ever manage to get, because neither of us want to accept that this truly is the last we'll ever see of each other when I'm still just slightly 'pure' and free.

But it's the truth, and I can't deny it. So the last words I say to my brother are, "I have to…" and then, "goodbye, Sirius."

Because I'll never be the same again.

It takes all of my strength not to run to him and ask for his help, what he should have given me all along as my big brother. But I manage to make myself walk down the corridor and turn the corner and disappear from his sight.

Behind me I hear something slam into the wall and it makes tears fall out of my eyes to know that Sirius just slammed his fists into the stone in anger. I know that later on he'll deny it, just as he'll convince himself over time that I wanted this path I'm on.

He's strong, though; I'm not. I was weak enough to run away, weak enough to let myself get caught in this web I'm in. And a part of me wonders why I sat in the moonlight even though I know I will never be able to get into the light in this battle, but there's nothing I can do to change my choice.

It was a choice, just like Sirius will say. The only difference in my forced hand is that I know I can do something even as my heart is pounded to pieces every time I will be asked to complete a task for the Dark Lord.

When I reach the dungeons, I look back once to a window, seeking the bright moonlight one last time. Then I turn to the entrance – turn my back on the light and willingly head into the dark.

* * *

_**A/N – Cheesy? Rambling? Very odd? I'd love to know what you think! I also know I took a bit of a creative license with this, and it's probably improbably in the Harry Potter universe, but I just came up with it in one day and couldn't stop writing! It just connected in my head, somehow. **_

_**The lines of the song are from the mentioned place in the Disclaimer. Even though I didn't write it in here, I imagine Regulus to look like Sirius, except with blue eyes rather than gray ('one wore blue and one wore gray'). Also, the 'all in a beautiful morning' refers to Regulus going off in the morning during the Hogsmeade trip to get his tattoo. The 'as they marchedalong the way' and 'the fife and drum began to play' would mean going to war, on their own paths of destiny. (In the original context of the song, it is talking about two brothers on opposite sides of the American Civil War). **_

_**Thank you for reading!**_


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